


Anonymous

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bondage, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have just become a member of a prestigious organization that organizes anonymous sexual encounters between members, but your first encounter is not so anonymous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous

Imagine if you will, you are in a room, sitting on a wooden chair, hands tied behind your back, ankles bound to the chair legs, completely nude, save for the blindfold covering your eyes. There is a slight chill in the air,enough to make you shiver, your skin to form goosebumps, your nipples to react.

This is the first time you have been here, but the thought of coming to this club and volunteering to be an anonymous slave has always been one of your wildest fantasies. Everyone went through a rigorous mental and health screening before they could join, so this is the closest you would ever be to doing anything as daring. And everyone is anonymous. Your partner could be anyone. And you would never know who each other were.

You hear a door open behind you, then footsteps as they walk towards you. You wonder if they can see you, how well-lit the room is, and you blush. Your breathing is shallow with anticipation. “Hello,” you manage to say, then draw in a deep breath. You hope your partner will respond.

"Hello, darling," your partner says. His voice is deep, and he has an accent. You’ve heard his voice before and you are racking your brain to place it and suddenly, it hits you. You’ve listened to him read poetry every night, and not just anything, poems about love. Almost guiltily, you think about those lonely nights when you’ve pleasured yourself to that voice, and the nights it soothed you to sleep.

Suddenly, there is no anonymity. You know exactly who is in the room with you. Your pulse quickens as you wait for something, anything to happen, while you resist the urge to tell him. You open your mouth to speak, but your throat has caught and no sound comes out.

His touch comes out of thin air, it seems, slightly cooler than the room, his fingers brush over your arm, up to your shoulder, across your cheek, and find their way into your mouth. Instinctively, you begin suckling them and licking them, suggestively showing him what you could do. He withdraws then and runs his index finger down your chest and then circles your already pert nipples, leaving chilled trails of your own saliva as a reminder that he was there.

A groan inadvertently escapes your lips. “Oh, do you like that?” He whispers mischievously. You nod your head and then feel the warmth of his mouth on your breast . His tongue begins to flick at your nipple and he mimics it with his hand on the other breast. The sensation is driving you crazy as a longing begins to build in your core.

You want him to touch you everywhere and you begin to writhe in your chair, but his other arm is across your lap, holding you in place, making it nearly impossible to grind your hips into him. The chair itself is also unnerving you as the heat builds in your sex and all you feel is the cold, hard seat pressing against it.

He stops everything he is doing and you sigh, not realizing that you were holding your breath. You wonder what he will do next. All you can do is wait.

"I am going to tease you until you are begging me to fuck you," he whispers fiercly into your ear. There is no touch, just the heat of his breath on your skin. You feel him remove the bindings from around your ankles. "Stand, please," he says, pulling you up by your bound hands. When you are fully upright, you begin to reel, dizzy from having sat for so long, head spinning from the short breaths you have been taking. You feel like you are going to fall,but when you begin to keel, his strong arms are there to catch you. "Whoa, there, my pet," he says.

You want him to stay there with his arms around you, and you want to embrace him, but your hands are still bound, so you nuzzle against his chest. His chest is bare and you begin to wonder if the rest of him is as well. The thought excites you, the tantalizing thought of what you had long stared at in his pictures, the holy grail, as you will, the fangirl’s wet dream.

He doesn’t move as you begin kissing his chest, I’m fact, he seems to be enjoying it. You lap up his sweat in little tongue strokes and work your way up to his neck. As you flick your tongue along his juggular vein and his earlobe, you feel him adjust his arms. His hands are no longer at the small of your back, one is on your ass, kneading it, the other has moved to your stomach, making your muscles flinch as it slides down, until you feel a single slender finger find its way into your swollen folds. He can feel your clit, hardened, ready for his touch. He grazes it, avoids it, preferring to delve further into your sex. You moan softly as he begins to pump his finger into you and curl it, hitting your tenderest spot and your hips rise to meet him. “You must stand perfectly still,” he coos, “You will not move until I say you can.”

You try to keep your hips from moving, but you can feel them involuntarily begin to flex. In response, he pulls you closer to him, holding you hard enough against him that you can’t move, but here, you can feel him, his length pressed against you, already erect, and that is even more maddening.

He continues the rhythm he has established, moving that single finger in and out. There was no more crooking, no more sweet spot, just that single movement that was threatening to drive you over the edge, but not enough to do so. “Please,” you say, hoping that you can make the torture, pleasurable as it is, stop.

He chuckles. “Please, what?” He asks.

"Please," you pant, "I want you to fuck me."

His kiss lands on your mouth, fast and hard, lips mashed hungrily together, tongues finding each others company. As he moves towards your neck, licking, nipping, suckling at your flesh, you feel him untie your hands. “Hold on around my neck,” he whispers.

You oblige him, lacing your fingers behind his curls, wondering absently what color hair he has now. He pulls his finger from you, wet with your juices and you feel both hands on your ass as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he lowers you down onto his manhood. You feel the delicious stretch as he fills you and a satisfied sound of half moan, half giggle escapes your lips.

He carries you to the side of the room, pressing your back against the wall. Its coolness makes you shiver, an act that makes him begin kissing you again. He lifts you up slowly from his cock, then dropping you back down on his full length. You moan and begin to undulate into him, rocking your hips toward him, rubbing his shaft against you as you move, each motion sending waves of ecstasy into you. Using the wall as leverage, he begins to thrust into you, gently at first, following your motions, then harder, each one more needy than the last.

Just when you feel like you will be driven insane by the sensations, a wave of release washes over you. You realize that with each thrust, each movement, you have moaned more loudly each time, until now, you reach fever pitch, yelling, “Oh, God! Oh, God!”

As you reach your crescendo, you feel him reaching his as well, and the ferocity of his orgasm makes you come again, even harder than the first time, and you scream, “Oh,God, Tom!”

An alarm sounds in your head. Stupidly, you let him know you knew who he was. You begin to inwardly berate yourself, hoping that he was too far into the moment to notice your slip up.

He stops moving and pulls out of you, setting your feet gently on the floor. His hands move up to your face and you feel the blindfold being lifted. It isn’t very bright in the room, the only illumination being several candle-like lights in sconces on the walls, but it feels like looking directly into the sun. You squint your eyes and try to see.

He stands in front of you, smiling guiltily. “I guess we’re not so anonymous,” he says, shaking his head. “Well, obviously, you know who I am.”

You nod, terrified of what will come next. “I’m sorry,” you apologise, “It’s just your voice I recognized. I listen to the poetry you read all the time.”

A sly smile played its way across his lips. “Does the sound of my voice turn you on.”

"Yes," you admit, looking down at the floor.

His finger catches your chin and draws your gaze back up to his blue eyes. “Have you pleasured yourself to the sound of my voice.”

"Yes," you answer, not really sure where this is going now.

His voice begins to get ragged and thick with desire, “Fancy another go, then?”

Now it is your turn to be sly, “Only if you recite poetry to me the whole time,” you say.

He grins and pulls you toward him, begins kissing you, each one punctuated with a stanza.


End file.
